Sunday, March 31, 2013

Did you ever stop to wonder where gender roles first started? Looking back through written history, women have always been property to be bargained with and traded for and whatnot - why? Where did that come from? Women bring life, so I guess it kind of makes sense that they would traditionally be the ones to do the child rearing instead of being the ones to go off and fight wars and stuff. But who decided that bringing life wasn't worth as much as fighting in wars and stuff? One might argue that someone has to get food for the women (go hunting) while the women take care of the kids, and that would put the women in some sort of debt to those who do the hunting. But the women gave life to those who do the hunting, so couldn't that be chalked up to a draw?

I started watching "Game of Thrones," and it is kind of disturbing how women are treated in this world, but it's not something that exists solely in fairy tale worlds. Women are property, they are bargaining chips, their bodies and lives are subject to the whims of their male counterparts. This isn't fiction - it is how women have been treated for centuries, with mild progress made toward equality in the last hundred years or so. And I, for one, would like to know how it all started.

There has also been a bit of a flap recently about John Hamm and how, allegedly, he has been asked to wear underwear with his "Mad Men" costumes because his anatomy is rather distracting. He, apparently, is tired of talking about it. He is being made to feel the way women have felt for centuries - reduced to a collection of body parts - and he doesn't like it. I don't like to revel in the discomfort of others, but I do sort of enjoy these tables being turned. I think it would do a lot of men a lot if good to know what that kind of objectification and dehumanization feels like.

I wonder what the world would look like if gender roles hadn't developed they way that they did. Would we have seen twenty-some-odd penises in the first episode of "Game of Thrones" instead of a half-dozen naked woman? Would some sort of balance between the genders have been reached by now, or would women be as oppressive as men have been? What would the great national and international issues be? It is, of course, entirely possible that nothing would be different.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

New futon mattress day was supposed to be a happy day. A day of comfortable sitting arrangements. A day of making my apartment look like one in which a grown up lives.

I think I have too much mattress and not enough frame.

I went with a futon mattress that has springs in it to get a little more support than your standard mattress that is just layers of squishable stuff. Which means it doesn't like to fold very nicely. Which means it was a pain in the butt to actually get onto the frame with the frame in upright position. And, whoever is designing futon covers now seems to have decided that they should be made like taco shells, so you have to slide the mattress halfway in before zipping it the rest of the way. Neither of these tasks should I have tackled on my own. My fingers are raw from gripping the canvas and trying to throw the mattress around. And I am sort of afraid that if I don't stay seated on the thing, the mattress will resume a flat shape and slide right off the frame. I'm actually pretty sure this will happen in the middle of the night when the opportunity to scare me out if my wits will be highest.

Friday, March 29, 2013

I tend to wear rather dull clothing. Tops with no frills, trousers that usually look like (or are) jeans, sneakers, hoodies. Sweet jebus, I dress like the unibomber. And I usually wear black because I feel like wearing colors draws too much attention to me. But there are a few things I wish I could pull off or I wish I had more of that I could deploy for special occasions. Hats. Big rings. Bling. I'm not the bling-y sort, but every now and again, I wish I could wear some giant dangly sparkly necklace and insanely uncomfortable high heels and walk down the street in slow motion with wind in my hair.

I got a new hat, and a new giant ring. I'm feeling sassy and it's kind of fun. Could this be the beginning of a wardrobe shift?

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

I have an email address that, apparently, many many many many many many many many many many many people wish they had. Sorry, kids, it's mine. I got there first. And because of the way that this particular email service works, even if you put a period or a dash or something between the words in the email address, the email still comes to me. Which means I get a lot of emails that are not intended for me.

I know, I know, you're thinking, "Those are called SPAM messages, and it's okay to delete them." I'm not talking about spam. I'm talking about people's order confirmations from All Things Edible that include home addresses, full names, itemized lists of what was ordered and what it cost, and telephone numbers. I'm talking about emails that say, "Hi, Parent. Your child has signed up to play Innocuous Learning Game Number 6 and needs your approval to set up an account." I'm talking about emails that say, "Your phone number 919-xxx-xxxx {phone number removed by me for privacy purposes} is almost at it's data limit for this billing cycle and will be charged $1.69 for every extra kilobyte of data." These are not spam messages. These are messages meant for someone who input the wrong email address when signing up for a service of some sort.

Now, recently, I switched cell phone providers because there is a certain cell phone company that I despise that I wanted to get away from. Everything was fine, I'm okay with my new provider, but then I started getting emails from my old provider in regard to an account that was not mine. I got a full name, a full address, and a couple of phone numbers - apparently, it's a family plan. I marked these emails as spam so I wouldn't have to receive them anymore. Nope. They still arrive in my inbox every month. So I tried texting the phone number associated with the account to ask them to update their email address on the account and remove mine in the process. Didn't hear anything. Got another email. Then another. Then another. I even tried calling the phone number in the email to ask them politely on the phone to update their preferences. They sent me to a voice mail box that hasn't been set up yet.

I'm at the point where I don't know what else to do. I'm trying to help this person protect their own personal information by making sure the right contact information is in their account, in addition to trying to stop being contacted by a cell phone company I hate for something that has nothing to do with me. If I was a less honest person, I could very easily get into their account and gain access to their personal, identifying, or financial information. I'm not that person. I don't want another person's identity. I don't want to screw with someone's life like that. But I would really really really like these emails to stop.

So I'm starting a spam text campaign against the offending phone number. Random facts sent with the intent of getting this person to change their email address. Things like, "All 10 million bricks in the Empire State Building would love it if you took my email address off of your phone account," and "It is physically impossible to lick your own elbow, but it is very easy to stop these texts - remove my email address from your cell phone account." Informative, and hopefully just annoying enough to get this person to wise up and use their own email address instead of mine. Because seriously, why haven't they updated their account yet?

If you have any suggestions for texts I can send to this person (I would prefer to avoid profanity and threats of violence), please share them in the comments. Thanks!

There are those moments in life when one is confronted with something that upon introduction is absolutely terrifying. These moments are inspired by different things for different people and they manifest in different ways. For some, this fear causes the body and mind to shut down in a protective mode. For others, it manifests as an ache in the stomach or trembling joints. For some, it is an adrenaline rush.

For me, fear is some combination of these. There is the first moment of, "Sweet merciful Jebus, get me out of this situation!" that floods over my body and makes me want to curl up and cry. Then a gnawing pit in my stomach, then the adrenaline that tells me I have to do something, I have to be proactive, because nobody is going to get me out of this situation but me.

I have that gnawing feeling in my stomach right now, and my upper arms are tense as I think about the rest of the week ahead of me, making mental to-do lists so I can make sure everything gets done. So I can make sure all of my situations are handled. So I can make sure things run smoothly and I am perceived as responsible, organized, reliable and together. The lists are daunting, but manageable, and the hardest part is waiting for the right moment to take care of each task. There are phone calls to make, appointments to attend, projects to work on at home with deadlines looming around the corner. All things I can do, as long as I budget my time appropriately.

I think this is one of the most important lessons I have learned about fear. I was terrified of just about everything as a kid - adults scared me, speaking up for myself scared me, the prospect of a disembodied hand sneaking into my room at night and strangling me while I slept scared me - but after a while, I realized that these fears did nothing but prevent me from living the life I wanted to live. So now, when I am afraid, I identify what is scaring me and come up with a reasonable, manageable plan for dealing with it. It doesn't make the fear go away, necessarily, but it does make confronting it seem like a more exciting option than running away from it. And when I come out on the other side, I always get that tiny moment of pride that comes from doing something I didn't think I would be able to do.

So I'm scared today. Of many things. But I know I will not only survive these things, I will thrive for having confronted my fears. Fear is not a useless emotion as some would say; it is a brilliant motivator.

Looks easy enough, right? I'm learning to fence for Hamlet and I will admit, I got a little bit of outside help so I can feel comfortable doing what I'm doing. The most basic attack is a five step process, as detailed above. Now, you can do 1-2-3-advance-4-5, or all-kinds-of-footwork-1-2-3-double-advance-retreat-advance-4-5, or whatever kind of crazy combination of things you want to or need to do in order to get yourself into a good position to attack your opponent, as long as these five steps happen somewhere in there, in that order.

I tend to 5-4 instead of 4-5.

Apparently, this is fairly normal for people learning how to fence, or at least that's what the fencing instructor told me. A lot of people tend to 5-4. It's important that you 4-5 because you have to establish for the referees that you are actually attacking. If you five before you four and your opponent gets a touch on you before your four because he four-ed first, then he gets the point, not you. If you four before he fours, then you have the right of way and he has to parry before he can attack in order to get a point. Or something. I think. What it boils down to is you have to four before you can five.

So this morning, walking from my car to my office, I practiced my 1-2-3s as nicely as I could while still walking, and tried to time my fours to come just before what would be a five with my right leg. I'm sure the people in cars passing by, or stopped at stoplights where I was able to practice a bit more literally, thought I was completely insane. But I think it's a good lesson to learn, not only in fencing, but in life. You have to four before you can five.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Hi. You really are lovely, you know that? Those of us in the northern half of the northern hemisphere just can't imagine the holiday season without you. We wait with baited breath for you to arrive for the first time each year, and are filled with warm fuzzy feelings when you get here. You make everything beautiful; you make everything clean and new.

Like all good things, though, I have to tell you that you are best in small doses and at the right time. When too much of you shows up at once, people get cranky, roads get slushy and dangerous. And when you show up in late March, well, I hate to say it but we're just tired of you. As lovely as you are, spring is lovely too, as is summer, as is fall. The four seasons need to work in harmony to highlight the beauty and wonder of nature.

So, Snow, my dear Snow, you are lovely, but it's okay for you to go away now. Just for a few months. Come December, we will welcome you again with open arms.

Being a parent is hard. I don't have any kids, but I can imagine. You want them to grow up to be responsible members of society and you want to show them the world and keep them engaged but you don't always know what they need or what's going on in their heads. The best you can do is try to keep the lines of communication open, and to always love them no matter what.

Being a parent to an adopted pet is another story entirely. I wish I communicated with my cat better so I could make sure he always has what he needs but I don't meow right. I wonder if he wishes he could see more of the world, but I'm not going to let him go running around outside by himself - he'll get hit by a car. I feed him, and clean up after him, and try to play with him to keep him engaged and active and healthy. I try my hardest to let him know that he is loved always, but sometimes, I don't know if I'm a good enough parent for him.

Which is why some days, I think the most important thing I can do is snuggle with him and offer him a warm lap or a soft tummy to sleep on. Yes, there are other things I need to get done in my life, but he won't be around forever and I want to make sure his time with me is satisfying for him. I want him to have a good life, and to be happy with me as his person. So if that means taking a nap on a Sunday afternoon and letting him steal all my warms, he can have them.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

I spent the majority of the day working on a project, and almost completely forgot to blog. Sorry about that. This post is going to suck, but at least it is something.

I'm having fun with this project, but it is a lot of work. My hands and back are exhausted. Funny - I went to a fencing lesson for an hour this morning, but sewing drinking straws together is what wore me out today. Anyway.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

I went to see a preview performance of the show I am currently understudying and there was a mishap on stage that resulted in a cut hand and blood splattered all over the stage. It was unnerving. For as much as I tend to think I'm desensitized because shows like The Following aren't as scary as I want them to be, it was unnerving to see someone get hurt in real life. I spent the remainder of the show and a large portion of my evening once I got home hoping the injured actor was okay.

The director informed us at intermission that the injured actor was fine. Indeed, the injured actor finished the show with a bandage on the injured hand, and gave a lovely performance. The show's crew did an excellent job of cleaning up the stage to ensure no further injuries would occur. I'm sure the injured actor and the injured actor's scene partner were upset by the incident - it's unsettling to accidentally injure someone and it is unsettling to be accidentally injured - but from where I was sitting, I think everything was handled quite well.

It did make me think about my own on-stage injury. Most of you know this already, but for those of you who don't, I broke my ankle on stage last November, when my roller skates went the way they wanted to instead of the way my legs wanted them to. I certainly heard a crunch when it happened, and I was very near several audience members. I wonder how many of them watched me crawl back to my seat on the bench. How many gasped like we all gasped last night, and spent the rest of the scene holding their breath, wanting someone to stop the show and take care of the injured party, and respecting the hell out of the injured party for playing it out? How many went home that night and thought, "I hope she's okay?"

If any of the audience members in attendance at the show wherein I broke my ankle were upset, unsettled, or unnerved by my accident, I apologize. I know it is not fun to watch someone get hurt when it happens right in front of your face. I am fine now, as I'm sure the injured actor from last night will also be fine. I hope that witnessing my accident didn't sour you on the theater at all - that doesn't happen very often, most plays are really safe. In any case, I apologize if the incident was upsetting.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

I love having projects. I don't function well if I don't have some sort of project to work on. Having some sort of creative project is what keeps me sane. Without a creative outlet, I would likely not be alive anymore.

I wonder what it is like to be the sort of person who isn't always working on six things, the sort who doesn't have a half-dozen ideas for things they would like to do and build and make and play with. Do those people exist? I'm not trying to be snobby; I just don't know. I think I've always been an idea person and a creator, so I don't know what it would be like to not be that person.

I have an idea that I'm working on (more details to follow) and I'm really excited about it. That excitement leads to more ideas and more planning and more problem solving and will hopefully result in something really freaking cool. I'm geeked.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Quick update - yesterday's freak out was unnecessary. I'm not saying that to belittle an event in my life; I'm saying it because I read something wrong so there was no reason to freak out. Anyway, everything is on track, the light at the end of the tunnel is in the same place it was before. Moving on...

I get to learn how to fence today. At least, I get to start learning how to fence. I am so excited and so nervous all at the same time. From what I remember about the guy I will be fencing with, he's about 37 feet tall and built like a bean pole, so of course all of my own self-image issues are coming into question today from "Why am I so short" to "Why is my ass so big" to "Why am I a freaking girl" to "What if he secretly resents the fact that I get to play Hamlet because it has always been his dream role" and "What if he thinks I'm terrible and not talented and he should have had this opportunity instead of me?" It's kind of an emotional day.

This is also the first real "rehearsal" for our "Hamlet." Everything I've done thus far has been part of the audition process and/or part of the "please give us money through Kickstarter" process. This is the first opportunity I will have to look a cast mate in the eye and say, "I am so excited that you are part of this process." Which I plan on saying. I hope I remember to say that. Believe it or not, I am very easily intimidated when I first meet another actor - I always think they are going to be better than me and we're both going to know it. That usually goes away very quickly, as I'm sure it will tonight.

I'm confident in my ability to learn how to fence. I have a dance background, so I'm good with balance and spacial awareness. I've studied stage combat (a bit) before, so I understand keeping safety concerns in the front of your mind. And I think I'm actually a lot better at a lot of things than I give myself credit for, so there is no reason to think I would not be able to learn this and do it well.

Hooray for new projects! And hooray for starting the real work on "Hamlet!"

This post brought to you by everyone's favorite punctuation mark, the quotation mark. Thanks, "quotes!"

Monday, March 18, 2013

It's funny to me that when one aspect of my life starts getting really good, another starts getting really bad.

I spent almost four hours with my mom yesterday morning and it was amazing. We communicate really well, and we bounce ideas off of each other and share creative opportunities and discuss life events and all of that. If there is some cosmic lottery that matches up parents and children, it could not have come up with a better pairing than my mom and I. She is the best mother for me, and I think I'm the best daughter for her. I left her place buzzing with excitement for the next steps in my life, full of positive energy.

And then today, I got an email which could effectively extend the major frustration in my life several months longer than I thought it was going to last. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail here, but you know when you finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it turns out to be a flashlight lying on the ground that only shows you that you have twenty more miles of tunnel to crawl through before you can get out on the other side? This email was one of those situations. I'm kind of in shock about it and have to do some re-planning of the next steps when I get home tonight.

There is nothing that you, my dear readers, need to worry about. Everything is okay; I am not in danger. Just really really frustrated. It will all sort itself out; I know this. It's just going to take a little longer than I originally thought.

But it is funny to me that this balance (or imbalance) exists so obviously in my life. It's not a series of little good things with the occasional bad thing scattered in between, it is a really wonderful super high followed by a crushing blow. It seems to be more extreme now than it was when I was younger, or maybe I wasn't paying as much attention before, but something has changed. Something is different. It's probably that I am different and things affect me differently than they used to. I have already decided to take action to eliminate some of the major frustrations from my life, it's just the matter of getting it done while someone or something seems to be conspiring against me to keep me from getting it done. Is it time for plan C? Maybe. I'm not done yet; I'm not giving up. But I apologize in advance to the people at whom I am likely going to yell to try to get this sorted out.

Thank goodness I have the good things to balance out the bad. Thank goodness I have the good things.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

I am proud to be Irish. I love being Irish. And as such, I refuse to don seventeen shades of green clothing on the Saturday night before St. Patrick's Day and drink myself into a stupor. There is so much more to being Irish than loving green and drinking whiskey and beer. Yes, I like those things, but there is more to being Irish than that and to be honest, it bothers me that this is the bit of Irish culture that is most universally celebrated in the United States.

Today, since it is officially St. Patrick's Day and I am officially Irish, I am going to eat a shepherd's pie, allow myself to drink a non-vegan Guinness (because I am more Irish than I am vegan and gosh darn it I miss Guinness), and listen to some Irish music. Spend time with friends. I had a brilliant morning with my mother (also Irish). That's what being Irish is about to me - friends, family, art, and good food.

Slainte!

Sorry for the crap post - I have too many ideas in my head to be coherent right now and I watched 50/50 today which is absolutely brilliant. I'll be better tomorrow. Promise.

Friday, March 15, 2013

If you are driving, and approaching an intersection, and there is not enough space on the other side of the intersection for your car, DO NOT GO THROUGH THE INTERSECTION.

I cannot stress this enough. If there is no space for you, I don't care what color the light is, don't go.

As much as we would like to think driving is a personal experience, it is not. It is a shared experience. As a driver, you have to share the road with other cars, bicyclists, pedestrians, construction crews, and occasionally wildlife. The best way to keep things running smoothly for everyone is if everyone works together to keep things running smoothly. This means if there is no space for you, don't go. If you go, you'll end up filling space that should rightfully go to someone else, so they'll honk and get irritated and the people in front of you will try to inch up because they feel bad that you're being a dick but they've go nowhere to go so they get impatient, or you'll move into the bike lane preventing cyclists from going on about their day and they'll yell nasty epithets at you, and the people in the houses and businesses around the intersection will have to listen to the honking and the yelling which disrupts their day, so really all you're doing by going through the intersection when there is no space for you on the other side is being a dick. And as our beloved Wil Wheaton says, "Don't be a dick."

So listen to Wil Wheaton* and the transitive property. If you go through an intersection when there is no space for you on the other side, you fuck things up for everyone else; fucking things up for everyone else is something a dick would do; so by going through an intersection when there is no space for you on the other side you're being a dick. Q.E.D.

Don't be a dick. Wait until there is space before you proceed.

*This message has not been endorsed or approved by Wil Wheaton in any way.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

I've been watching a ridiculous amount of Project Runway lately. I'm addicted. I guess it's not too shocking, given my background as a seamstress and costume designer; I'm mostly surprised it took me this long to get into the show. Why was I avoiding watching it? I absolutely adore Tim Gunn now. Adore him. And I love the show.

That being said, there was one contestant who set my teeth on edge. Not for the reasons you might think, either. He wasn't one of the loud ones or the obnoxious in-your-face ones who everyone ends up hating. He was quiet and reserved and had an interesting sense of style. But in one episode, he complained that he couldn't work with his model because her breasts were too big. He said he doesn't like it when women have breasts because it messes up the line of his garment.

What. The. Fuck.

We're supposed to apologize for our anatomy because it makes it hard for designers to dress us? I hate to lower myself to base insults, but "fuck you" is honestly the most appropriate answer in this situation. Fuck you. If you don't like designing for women because they're too curvy for your lines, don't design for women! Design for men who are more angular!

What's really funny about this contestant is that a couple episodes after he said that, we find out he is primarily a menswear designer in an episode where the challenge was menswear-centered. And he complained that his guy was too big! He flat out said to the man's face, "You're big," and not in the good way. He ended up dressing this sort of retro rocker dude in a very feminine shirt and ill-fitting trousers that had no place on a rock and roll stage. When the judges critiqued his outfit, he complained again that the guy was too big and was bigger than his mannequin. You know what? Pad the mannequin! Tape some muslin around the chest so you get an idea of what you're working with and do your freaking job. If your entire design aesthetic is dependent upon dressing boy-shaped woman and prepubescent men, maybe high fashion design shouldn't be your thing. You have to learn to adapt and change with the times and honey, normal sized women are making a comeback.

As I said, I love the show. I'm annoyed I don't have access to some of the earlier seasons. But I think this contestant embodies what is wrong with the fashion industry. Not all women are that small. Not all women are A cups with no hips. Not all men are bean poles. Not all men are super crazy muscular. If the fashion schools are cranking out students who don't know what to do when confronted with breasts or a beer gut, this crazy social pressure to look a certain way is never going to change. As long as the impossible (or impossible for the majority of the population) is considered the ideal, we'll never figure out what normal is and we'll never learn to love ourselves as we are.

All the more reason I want Project Runway contestants to design something for me some day. Wouldn't that be an awesome challenge?

My cup-pies (if I can borrow the phrase from Pushing Daisies) turned out thusly. I learned that if you're making mini pies, the ratio of crust to filling dictates you should only make about half of a filling recipe. Pie crust dough does not take to multiple rollings out as nicely as sugar cookie dough, but it is not terrible, either. And I probably should have used the lime juice instead of second guessing myself on the tangy element.

But all in all, they're tasty little pies. They go well with ice cream. The crust is flaky and delicious, and the blackberry color is amazing. I think this pie would get me into the next challenge, though it would not be the winning pie.

Then again, is any pie ever really a losing pie? It's pie, for crying out loud!

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

So I'm experimenting with pie this evening. Tomorrow is the geeky favorite holiday, Pi Day, because on this side of the pond, we write the date 3/14. So I thought I would make pie to celebrate, with the ventilation holes cut in the shape of the Pi symbol. Geeky, right?

I'm putting way too much thought into this and way too much pressure on myself. I think I've decided to do cup-pies (like cupcakes, but pie), and I'm adapting a filling recipe in a couple different ways (different tangy elements, different sugars) and I'm freaking myself out because oh my god what if I don't make the world's best pie and what if the filling is too sweet and what if I cook them too long cuz they're mini-sized and the recipe is for full sized pie and AAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

When the truth of the matter is, it's pie. That I may or may not share with other people. And I like sweet things. If they're awful, I don't have to eat them. And I can change my mind and just make one large pie if I want to. I think I've made a strong berry choice, I know the crust is good (I've used this recipe before), and I got vanilla ice cream to drown out any imperfections.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

It's funny how we all hold on to stress the way we do, almost like we'd fall apart if we didn't have stress holding us up. It manifests in tight shoulders, stiff necks, sleepless nights, ulcers, strained relationships, all sorts of ways. And you can go get a massage to try to relieve some of the stress, but people often find themselves just as sore afterward as they were when they went in, or they get stressed out about the fact that they wore out the massage therapists hands with the giant knots in their back, and the cycle starts all over. Why do we love stress so desperately? Why is it so hard to let it go?

There was an element of my life that was stressing me out quite a bit for the past couple of months, but that element is now finished, part of the past. I've moved on to a new project and didn't realize until I got my first bit of feedback on this new project that I was still stressed out about the bit that was over. I was afraid it would go the same way, it would make me feel the same way, people would have the same reaction. This new project has received a much more positive reaction than the last one, and I find myself finally breathing deeper. Relaxing my face without having to consciously remind myself to relax my face. Letting my shoulders sit where they want to instead of right at the base of my earlobes. It feels foreign but beautiful.

So what is it about stress? Why do we hold onto it weeks longer than we need to? Is it a comforting thing, a security blanket?

I would like to find a different security blanket. Maybe pie. Mmmm...pie blanket...

Monday, March 11, 2013

I don't normally do movie reviews, but I do feel like I need to say a few things about Oz the Great and Powerful, which I saw last night with some friends. There may be spoilers, I haven't decided yet, so if you've not seen it and want to be surprised, you might want to stop reading now and come back tomorrow. Then again, there isn't a whole lot to give away, so it may not matter.

First, some background. I have not read Mr. Baum's books. I know I should have, or maybe I read Return to Oz when I was really young, but I don't really remember it. My most outstanding memories of this franchise have to do with the the original Wizard of Oz film with Judy Garland. I was obsessed with this film as a child, to the point where I told a random woman in the grocery store who came up and asked what my name was that I was Dorothy Gale from Kansas when I was about three. I had a little wooden toy dog with wheels instead of legs that I would drag around behind me who was, of course, named Toto even though he looked nothing like Toto. And I was devastated every year when the Easter basket had to go back into the attic for storage because it was a necessary prop for my Wizard of Oz games. I love the Wizard of Oz. I know all of the music. I know most of the dialogue by heart. I do killer impressions of the Lullaby League and the Lollipop Guild. I was upset when we did a version of it in junior high and I was only in the chorus. We did a Wizard of Oz tap dance number when I was about six and I was annoyed that I was a Tin Man instead of Dorothy (though looking back, the Tin Man costumes were the best ones). I cannot imagine my childhood without the Wizard of Oz, so I was very much looking forward to Oz the Great and Powerful, and I was very much ready to suspend my disbelief and journey back to Oz.

That said, there were things that I loved about this film and things that I wish had been done better.

First off, I loved the production design. I feel like it stayed true to the designs of the original film so locations were easily recognizable and characters were recognizable and whatnot, but it still brought in some modern flare so it didn't feel like an exact copy. The colors were gorgeous. The costumes were lovely. The film started out in black and white (as did the original), and in a smaller frame - a more square picture that didn't fill the entire movie screen. The transition from that to the full screen full color world of Oz was beautifully done. Absolutely beautiful. There are two main CGI characters in Oz who were also beautifully done (most of the time) and some of the most sympathetic characters in the film.

Where the production design bothered me, though, was in this one little tendril of hair Glinda had sticking out from her crown - why? What was the point of this? - and in the Wicked Witch herself. I wanted more. I wanted uglier. I wanted scarier. Sam Raimi made this a 3D film and took full advantage of opportunities to scare the audience by using big in your face moments. Yes, her chin is a little pointy. Yes, her nose is a little pointy. Yes, she's green. But she's still Mila Kunis. She's still gorgeous. And that face screaming in the audience's face isn't nearly the stuff of nightmares that the original Wicked Witch was. Which I think speaks a bit to the performance, as well. Once she turns green, she mostly just shouts. She's not cunning, she's not sneaky, she's not...wicked. She just shouts. And, as I have said before in regard to Doctor Who, you can stand and face the Daleks, or you can STAND AND FACE THE DALEKS. This Wicked Witch stood and faced the Daleks, so to speak. Even her evil sister (Rachel Weisz) didn't come off as all that evil. Maybe because we never found out what their actual plan was, other than kill Glinda. We know they had killed in the past; we know they want to get rid of Glinda. Maybe it is because the film is PG, they couldn't go really dark and evil with these characters, but wanting to murder a rival is...tired. Unless it's for some really dark, new, interesting reason. But there was no real reason presented other than maybe that they just didn't like her.

There are those who will say, "But the evil witches wanted control of the Emerald City!" So did Glinda! So did Oz! And when he visits the Emerald City (which is under Evanora's rule (sort of - she's looking after it in the absence of any real authority figure)) toward the beginning of his adventures in Oz, the City doesn't look to be doing too badly. Nothing is falling apart. The citizens don't appear to be suffering. We find out later that the Wicked Witch has destroyed China Town, but I don't know. I didn't see any motivations for any of that, and I didn't seen enough just plain evil in the portrayal of either evil witch.

Speaking of China Town, the little China girl is adorable. So beautifully done and so sympathetic. So full of pure, good intentions, and also a strong female character which is that much more fun because she is made of China. My only issue with her is that she is CGI and I don't think the actors who had to interact with her were given anything with which they could simulate interacting with her. For instance, when Naomi Watts had to be picked up by King Kong in King Kong, they built a big green screen hand to surround her so when she was pounding on King Kong's fist to let her go, there was something actually there for her to hit. When James Franco and Michelle Williams had to pick up the China girl, they looked like they were mimicking picking something up that they didn't know how big or heavy it was supposed to be. Which is unfortunate. Were it not for the real actor's inability to interact with the China girl, she would have been one of the most alive characters on screen.

You could see there were other moments where the live action actors were uncomfortable, too, in some of the green screen work and some of the wire work. In what I'm guessing is the first scene Rachel Weisz shot on wires, she is supposed to lift off the ground in a terrifying moment of power. Her face tells a very different story, like she's terrified the wires are going to snap or she's going to vomit. It's hard to be intimidating when you're petrified. Similarly, Glinda is being tortured at one point, to the point where I'm presuming she should be near death, yet her "cries of agony" were more in line with someone who just stubbed her toe on an empty cardboard box. I'm not saying these moments had to be over the top campy scary. I'm saying as an audience member and an actor, I found myself wishing they had all raised the stakes three or four notches. The film would have been much more exciting if there was something behind these characters.

Which brings me to the Wizard himself. He's supposed to be a magician/swindler/ladies' man, and it is this fact that is supposed to be his undoing in Oz once those who have faith in him find out what he's really like. Thing is, what magician isn't a trickster? Magic is all about slight of hand and shifting focus and distraction and whatnot. So why is this such a tremendous source of shame? I don't think this painted him as the horrible human being we're supposed to find out that he is. He is a ladies' man, yes, who has apparently seduced (or tried to seduce) every woman in the circus with a music box gimmick that is more sad-trombone-comical than sleazy, and we see that he doesn't pay his assistant fairly, but he does pay him. We even see him performing a trick in Kansas, before getting to Oz, that inspires a young girl in a wheelchair to ask him to make her walk. Knowing he can't do it, he refuses and does not take her parent's money. This makes him a bad guy how? He didn't take advantage of the vulnerable family. I guess I would have liked to see him be more of a swindler, more of a trickster so it's surprising and redemptive when he turns out to be helpful. If he's a basically good guy who has some flaws...where do you go with that? He's not bad enough for you to hate him, not good enough for you to sympathize with him. The way he is presented in the film, he's just afraid of commitment. Meh.

Now, keep in mind, this is based on a book which I have not read. Maybe that is how the story actually goes. As an actor and as a director, though, you can find the spaces between the lines to emphasize the points that need to come across in a story. And yes, this movie is PG so you're not going to go super crazy with it, but if they are going to make him a ladies' man, if they are going to make Theodora become the Wicked Witch because of an unrequited love/jealousy thing, if they are going to end the film with Oz hitting on Glinda, they could have raised the stakes in the portrayal of evil a little more. Hell, Maleficent was a scarier, more evil witch than either wicked witch in this movie and that film was rated G. Return to Oz scared the shit out of me as a kid and haunted me for years, and it's rated PG. I just think they could have done more here.

I liked that they used actors from Kansas to play characters in Oz, like they did in the original film. In the original film, though, it is implied that the whole thing is a dream Dorothy had after hitting her head during the tornado, which is why those characters look familiar. She realizes that there is no place like home and a beautiful lesson is learned. In Oz the Great and Powerful, he stays in Oz to be the Wizard - so what was the point behind this "double casting?" Is this also supposed to be a dream or a fantasy in his head from which he never wakes up? You get the lesson he learns from the China girl, but there isn't an over-arching message to the film. Unless it is that if you trick people, you can build a nice life for yourself. Or that maybe comas aren't such a bad way to go. Or something. I don't know. It was confused.

So yeah, the film has some problems. I loved the China girl. I loved Finley. I loved the colors and I loved (most of) Danny Elfman's music (surprise, surprise). The "battle" toward the end is clever and fun, and a really nice tribute to the original film. I love all of the little Easter eggs thrown in for true Wizard of Oz fans. I'm glad I saw it because it is a beautiful spectacle of a film. I hope that children these days still see the original Wizard of Oz before they see this one, though, or I am afraid they will never fall in love with the Land of Oz like I did when I was a kid. I would hate to deprive a child of the wonder that is the Land of Oz.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

I'm not going to lie - I've not been happy lately. I've been very unhappy lately. I know why I'm unhappy, and I know what needs to happen to not be unhappy anymore, and I have plans in the works to get there. But getting there takes time and I still have to function in the interim.

One manifestation of this unhappiness is that my head has been hurting for about a week, maybe more. This tension headache in my temples just won't go away, and being in pain all of the time is making me a not-fun person. When I went to buy some Tylenol yesterday, the woman behind me in line jumped to another register that called for the next person in line (who was actually the guy in front of me), and then gave me some sob story about how she was so sorry and she was out of it because of something to do with her husband and it was all I could do to not snap, "I don't need the full backstory. Just finish your transaction." And then when the cashier was ringing me up, he took a phone call at the same time and had me bag my own items because I brought my own bag. Now, I get that not everybody brings their own bags to the drug store, but when someone does, it doesn't mean the cashier is not allowed to touch that bag. When I'm taking care of payment, you can put the last couple things in the bag. That's okay. So I bag my items, wait for my receipt and walk away. The cashier, still on the phone, told me there was a coupon printing for me and I couldn't help it. I snapped, "I don't care," as I left the store.

Why did this interaction irritate me so much? Why did the prospect of a coupon push me over the edge? I'm not a rude person (generally), and I'm usually good at keeping my personal life and mood separate from my interactions with strangers. But what is happening to me that I snapped at a store clerk about a coupon? What the hell?

So I decided to go for a sort of minimalist if weekend. Aside from the trip to the drug store yesterday, I haven't left my apartment since I got home from rehearsal on Friday night. I'm burning a candle with soothing essential oils in it. I'm eating foods that make me feel good. And I'm watching a boatload of Project Runway. The unhappiness has to do with stress and a feeling of not being fulfilled in certain areas of my life, so I'm hoping a weekend of recharging and reminding myself to relax my face will help me through the next couple of weeks until the changes I am trying to make start becoming more real.

In the meantime, I apologize if I've snapped at you recently or if I've been less than cheery. Unless you deserved it. Then it was your fault.

Friday, March 08, 2013

I have too many thoughts on too many topics and not enough focusing ability to make anything coherent about any of them at the moment, so I'm just going to say hi to you guys today.

Hi.

It looks like this blog has a decent number of visitors on a daily basis - it's pretty consistent - though there are no official subscribers as of yet. It looks like there are people from all over the world popping in, for which I can only say thank you.

Thank you.

And hi! If you want to leave a comment and introduce yourself or whatever, I'd love to meet you. If not, that's okay, too. But I think today is a day about you guys. Yes, I write for my own sake, but it is a very big warm fuzzy to know that you're reading. So thank you. That's it.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

I've probably mentioned before that I have odd dreams, and that if I find myself going without dreams for very long, I start to feel...not quite right. Well, I had a dream last night that was chock full of odd, so I thought I would share.

At some point in my dream, I had to go on a date with Jason Sudeikis, who was eager to go on the date, but somehow not allowed to touch me. At all. So he kept his hands behind his back the whole time and also barely spoke. I ended up leaving the date (which involved a movie on a very large outdoor screen where everyone was sitting on those plastic garden chairs but Jason was sitting two rows behind me and several seats to the left) and the dream transitioned to a non-date time wherein I decided to order pizza for breakfast at 7am. The Pizza Hut was surprisingly crowded for 7am, and I was simultaneously glad I had worn my roller skates there for speed purposes, thrilled at how well I moved in my roller skates, and regretting the decision to wear skates because nobody else was and they were all looking at me funny. The woman behind me in line then said something along the lines of, "I don't know if anyone has ever told you this before, but you smell like several homeless people who haven't bathed in years," and the only retort I could come up with was something along the lines of, "I don't know if anyone has ever told you this before, but that was rude." And I got my pizza and roller skated home through grass and snow and puddles.

I woke up thinking I must really be in bad head space if the people in my dreams are flat out insulting me and I can't even stand up for myself.

So I wore a dress to work today. And treated myself to my favorite sandwich for lunch. And my plan is to get some exercise when I get home, because I need to find a way out of this negative head space and nobody else is going to do it for me.

Tuesday, March 05, 2013

Okay, I remember why I don't ride the bus now, especially in heavy traffic or inclement weather. The constant stop-go-stop-go triggers my seasick reflex. I don't know if I'm actually prone to seasickness; I don't think I've ever spent enough time on a boat to figure that out. But this is what I imagine that would feel like. Stomp on the gas to go two feet, stomp on the breaks. Inch forward at a light, start to gun it through an intersection, then wait for one last passenger. Play chicken with the cars in the other lane to see who's going to let the bus in so it can progress fifty feet to the next stop. It's wreaking havoc on my equilibrium and making me feel ill.

I have said for some time that I don't mind snow as long as I don't have to go out in it. It's pretty to look at, it has kind of an insulating effect, it can be nice. It only really gets annoying because we insist on living our lives as though nothing has changed and there aren't eight inches of white stuff on the ground slowing everything down. We get annoyed with the bad traffic, with the flight delays, with the unplowed roads and unshoveled sidewalks. Snow is a hassle if you have to do things in it. If you have the choice to be in it or not be in it, then it's lovely.

It is supposed to snow again in Chicago today. Anywhere between four and twelve inches from what I hear, with the city getting hit as badly as the suburbs usually do. I have to go to work and have my normal day there, and then I have a follow up appointment at the podiatrist, which is good because my ankle has really been hurting for the past two days. I hope it's just a weather sensitivity thing. But anyway, snow plus me having to be certain places by certain times equals cranky Kitty. And I'm tired of being cranky Kitty. So I'm on the bus again today.

I have resigned myself to trying to stay zen on the bus. I realize that depending on snow, I may have to leave early to get to my appointment and that is going to be a long commute. But maybe if I stay calm (and DFTBA), I can make it through this snow storm without getting angry or annoyed.

Monday, March 04, 2013

I went to the movies last night with a couple of friends, and I had decided long before I even got to the theater that I was going to buy some candy to eat during the film. Going to the movies is still sort of an indulgent experience for me. You spend more money than you want to spend to get lost in some fantasy world for a couple of hours, and you might as well have a snack while you're doing it, right? At the very least, a beverage so you can stay hydrated while watching the movie (despite the fact that almost all available beverages at the movie theater are known to dehydrate people, but whatever. You know what I mean).

So my friends and I had a beverage or two in the bar before going into the theater, and I stopped at the concession stand on the way in, looking for Dots - those little gumdrop thingies - because in all honesty, I miss gummy candies. I don't eat gelatin, and most gummy stuff contains gelatin, so I miss it because I used to love the squishy sort of texture. Dots do not contain gelatin, so they are my go-to for when I want something chewy. So I went to the concession stand and looked at the boxed candy and almost didn't see the Dots because they came only in a 2.25oz box. Something smaller than a box of cigarettes. I was looking for the 16-20oz box they usually have a the movie theater. The box big enough to share with your friends. The box big enough to put you into a sugar coma and make you feel ill. The box big enough to make sure every single tooth in your mouth gets covered in gummy goodness that you have to use your tongue to peel off throughout the film and halfway home afterward. I almost missed the 2.25oz single-serving box - the box smaller in size than what you find at your local drug or variety store - hidden between the Twizzlers and the chocolate covered peanuts. But I found it, and bought it - two dollars.

Now, I realize that in general, candy sizes have gotten smaller to save movie theaters money and to discourage people from overeating. Like that whole outlawing of super sized soft drinks thing in New York City - people figure if only smaller portions are available, people will consume less. This may be a valid point - since I only had one serving of Dots to eat, I only ate one serving, as opposed to the two or three I would likely have eaten if the larger box had been available.

But at the same time, I was incensed that my movie candy was now only available in mini. What if I want to indulge at the theater? What if I want to gorge myself on sugar and get really hyper? What if, god forbid, I wanted to share with my friends? This tiny candy portion discourages sharing, unless you and your group are each okay with eating two Dots. Who wants to eat just two Dots? Yes, I know I could have purchased more than one box, but that then falls into the shame spiral - an effective method to keep people from overeating. And at a movie theater that still offers a 32oz soft drink and a vat of popcorn the size of a six-year-old's head, it seems a little odd to shrink the size of the candy boxes so drastically. If we're trying to prevent people from consuming so much sugar, shouldn't a 12oz or even a 20oz soda be the limit? It's like drinking a diet soda while eating ten glazed donuts - why cut back on one but not the other?

I realize that this totally falls under the heading of First World Problems. There are millions out there who don't have enough to eat in the first place, so the thought of getting a candy treat now and again is completely foreign and something they maybe dream of. Complaining that there isn't enough candy to eat themselves into a diabetic coma is the last thing on their minds. I know I have no right to complain. It just struck me as odd and cheap and a really strange marker of these changing times in which we live.

Now, if movie theaters wanted to start serving hummus and veggies in an effort to make things healthier, I'd be all over that. Until then, allow me my sugar coma. Please?

Sunday, March 03, 2013

Exercise is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad addiction. It releases endorphins which make you feel good. It creates a build up of lactic acid in the muscles that you can only get rid of by exercising more. Too much of it can kill you. So please, next time your doctor tells you to exercise more, ask them if they also recommend morphine for pain and just say no.

I guess I should count myself lucky I don't have an addictive personality.

Saturday, March 02, 2013

If you've read this blog for any period of time, you know I hate being cold. Which makes it odd that I live in Chicago, yes, but this town is just too good to pass up. Anyway.

Right around this time of year, I start getting really antsy for warmer weather and today, I figured out why. I'm tired of wearing boots. I'm not much for sandals, and I firmly believe that flip-flops are not shoes, but it gets exhausting and dull to wear the same heavy, clunky snow boots every day for five months. I miss my sneakers! I get cranky without good, comfy footwear.

Friday, March 01, 2013

First of all, if you've not seen this video, please take the three minutes and forty-nine seconds to watch it because it is so beautiful. If you didn't already love Hank Green, or if you don't understand why I love Hank Green, this is it. Right here. I've seen the video probably half a dozen times and it still chokes me up. So please, go watch it and then come back to read the rest of this post. I'll still be here.

Watched it? Yes? Good?

Okay. So that's the starting point for this discussion, and I just want to say really quickly that the beauty of two shiny boxes exploding into millions of shiny boxes is what gets me every time. So much beauty and so much love. It reduces me to the point of not being able to use words. I love that image of millions of shiny boxes, each one as beautiful as the last, in all of the colors of the rainbow. I like thinking about human sexuality that way.

I realize that not everybody looks at human sexuality that way, though, and it makes me sad. Because for me, it kind of goes like this.

Let's say your entire life, you've been attracted to redheads. Who isn't attracted to redheads, right? They're gorgeous and graceful and every time you fantasize about who you want your ideal life mate to be, that person always has red hair. And then one day, you meet this brunette who just knocks you on your ass. This brunette is kind and thoughtful and intelligent and likes the same leisure activities you do and the two of you communicate well and have similar life goals and spiritual beliefs and you just can't imagine your life without this person. Suddenly, the fantasy of the redhead seems so much less important than the idea of spending your life with this specific brunette, yes? I think most people can wrap their brains around that - the idea that you fall in love with the person, not necessarily the package they come in. So let's extrapolate that same idea out further and say it's not just the person's hair color that isn't what you expected yourself to love, but their eye color is different than you imagined. Or their body shape. Or their skin color. Or their genitalia. Are you not still falling in love with the person instead of the package they come in? At what point is it okay to draw the line and say that's not acceptable? At what point is it okay to say, "No, you and this other consenting adult are not allowed to enter into a relationship because of x?"

(I point out "consenting adults" because I think it is important for me to clarify that I think pedophilia is the point at which lines must be drawn. Kids who are too young to understand what is going on should not be subjected to the sexual desires of others. For that matter, adults who are old enough to understand what's going on should not be subjected to the sexual desires of others with whom they don't agree, though one would hope the adults have the tools to be able to say "no" to such situations whereas children may not know how to stand up for themselves.)
I bring this up because a bill passed the Illinois State Senate which would make gay marriage legal. It is now being debated in the Illinois State House. I'm not the praying sort, but if I was, I would be praying with all of my might that this bill passes and Illinois legalizes gay marriage. It's a no-brainer to me - if two people choose to spend their lives together, they should legally be allowed to do so, and they should be afforded the same legal rights that go along with marriage as every single other married couple. I can't think of a good reason why they shouldn't.

Granted, there are those who say it is "against God." Maybe your God. But if I don't believe in your God, why do I have to be subjected to his laws? The United States grants separation of church and state in many areas, why not this one? There are so many religions and spiritual orientations in this country, and we all have the right to practice whichever one we want; why does one religion get to dictate who everyone is or isn't allowed to marry?

There are those who say it undermines the institution of marriage. Well, I hate to point this out, but marriage is a man-made construct, and an "institution" that has gone through quite a few changes since it's original inception. It came about likely around the time people figured out that men were involved in the baby-making process and and some men didn't want to be raising another guy's kid, so marriage was invented to pair up a man and a woman for procreation purposes so the guy could make sure he was only providing for his own offspring. Romantic, no? These days, marriages exist that have nothing to do with procreation - some couples just choose not to have kids. Marriages exist between more than two people in some religions so there are more people around to take care of the kids. And somewhat recently, we introduced this concept of "love" into marriage - the idea that you should like the person you're going to spend the rest of your life with instead of just entering into a contract with them to share lands and rear offspring. The notion of a romantic marriage seeped into the legal system, allowing spouses the right to visit one another in the hospital when others are not, allowing spouses to inherit from one another when one passes away, allowing tax breaks, and the like. Because if you love someone, you should be able to share in those things and provide for one another, right?

So if we take the idea that you may fall in love with someone you didn't expect to fall in love with, and the idea that you should be able to share your life with the person you love and provide for them and whatnot, the logical conclusion as I see it, is that this right should be extended to everyone, regardless of the sex or gender pairings. Right? Because where and how can you draw that line?

I know, I know, the homophobes are saying you draw the line at two people of the same sex getting married because that idea makes them uncomfortable. You know what? Denying gay and lesbian couples the right to get married will not prevent them from being together. It will not prevent them from falling in love and dedicating their lives to one another. It will not stop them from making love to one another. It will not stop them from building families or building homes or raising brilliant, beautiful children together. All it does is prevent them from being able to be there for each other when they die. It prevents them from being able to provide for one another's future. And why would you want to do that to someone who has done nothing but love another human being? In what world does that make sense?

I wanted this post to be eloquent and thought provoking and...better than I think it is. I wanted it to be one of those things that people read and can't argue with the logic of, but I don't know that it is that. I guess I mostly wanted to say that I want to live in a world where every shiny box is treated with the same love, reverence, and respect as every other shiny box, because there are so many, they are so beautiful, and because ooo! Shiny!

I remember as a kid in elementary school, when we were learning about the seasons, they made us learn the phrase "March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb." Meaning, spring happens in March, so at the beginning of the month the weather is annoying and winter-like, but by the end of the month, things have changed and the weather is happy and spring-like. I don't know why this particular phrase was so important to my elementary school teachers, but I remember it being on a test. They wanted us to remember "in like a lion, out like a lamb" so desperately that they tested us on it.

Sadly, Mother Nature is completely unaware of this phrase and does whatever the hell she wants with the weather.